Author Elizabeth Montgomery was born in Williamsburg, Virginia and raised a hop, skip, and a jump away in Yorktown, Virginia. Paranormal inspiration was easily obtained during her childhood in the Historic Triangle. This helped to spur her love of Paranormal romance stories, but she also enjoys reading YA and NA.

She is currently raising four children and a husband while elbow-deep in the depths of the writing cave. You can often find her searching on Google for an appropriate, or sometimes inappropriate, photo to insert in any random conversation. If not on Google, or Facebook chat, she can be found drinking coffee (like any normal writer), eating Gummy Bears, baking fanciful cakes, reading, or writing.

“I always wondered what authors meant when they said that their characters tell them what to write – I get it now!”

My relationship with a good book can be described in many words but I can sum it up in a few…THE FEELS! I have to feel the feels…happy, sad, humor, grief, contentment (That’s a big one, I like the story to feel complete).

When did you first start writing and what was the first thing that you wrote that you were proud of?

I first started writing a few years ago, my first book Persecution actually started as a funny between me and a couple friends in a chat message. I sat down at my computer and it all just hit me, all the characters were talking to me, it was great!

Please describe your work ethic as an author.

I have 4 kids and work 16 hour shifts on the weekends (Pediatric nurse) so I utilize the time that the kids are in school to get the majority of my writing done. I tend to be a procrastinator so there have been many a late night where coffee was my best friend lol.

Why did you write this book?

I wrote Scarred in hopes that it would help kids that have been bullied to realize the amazing people and that they CAN stand up for themselves while never losing self-respect.

My oldest son was bullied in fifth grade and the school really didn’t do much more than a slap on the wrist to other kid. The system failed my son so I took it upon myself to educate him and he hasn’t been bullied since.

What do you hope to accomplish in the next five years, both as an author and in your outside life?

Over the next five years my goal is to write full time and only continue my nursing job as necessary to keep my license active.

Since you are a storyteller, please tell one good lie about yourself.

Ohh, this is a good one! Okay so you know this thing we call life? I totally have it figured out. Yep, totally 😉 (I couldn’t even type this with a straight face lol)

The halls were crowded with kids trying to get to class, but one person stood out in the crowd as she always did. Harper Clarke. The bane of my existence. I learned early on in middle school that she came from the upper crust, but her love was bought by her alcoholic mother and absent father. She was beautiful, popular, and I’m pretty sure she could wipe her butt with hundred dollar bills if there was no toilet paper.

Walking into class, I saw the one person I wished would just move out of the state, Harper. She was draped over my desk. Our English teacher thought it was a good idea to assign seats in tenth grade. It had not been conducive to my fading-into-the-crowd plan since my desk was toward the front of the room. “Can you remove your butt from my desk please?” I asked as sweetly as I could. “Aww, what’s wrong, Scarface? Didn’t bring your guns?” she asked with a bogus frown and then doubled over laughing. She had called me Scarface ever since I could remember. One of the downfalls to growing up in a small town: everyone knows everyone. Forever. “What are you talking about, Harper?” I asked, dropping my backpack to the ground beside the desk. “Don’t you get it? Scarface…guns…Al Pacino.” Her head tilted to the side like a confused puppy. “Whatever,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “I heard you’re coming to Blake’s party?” she asked, crossing her legs across the desk. “Who told you that?” I was starting to get annoyed, but I didn’t want to push her; she was ruthless and would tear me to shreds in a public humiliation scene. “Well, Blake himself, silly. I think he likes you.” She had a southern twang in her voice and a pageant smile plastered across her face. “That’s nice. Can I have my desk back please? Class is about to start and you wouldn’t want a smudge on that perfect image you have, would you?” I winked at her as she wrinkled up her face at me before grabbing my backpack and dumping its contents on the floor. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she walked away like nothing happened.